


Almost Make Believe

by RushingHeadlong



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: 1998!Brian May, F/M, Semi-Public Sex, slight arm kink/tank top kink, slight hurt/comfort at the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:35:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27491311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RushingHeadlong/pseuds/RushingHeadlong
Summary: When you saw Brian’s performance at the Big Mama Club you thought nothing could ever top being front-and-center to him rocking out in a tight black tank top… and then you run into him a bar after the show, and your night goes from great to amazing.
Relationships: Brian May/You
Comments: 1
Kudos: 17





	Almost Make Believe

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on tumblr @RushingHeadlong
> 
> I'm trying to space out uploading my older fics here, but after the news that Brian is planning on re-releasing some of his solo material I thought what better way to celebrate than by sharing this fic set during his 1998 solo tour?

You think you fell a little in love with Brian the first time you heard a Queen album. You didn’t even know his name then, but the moment you heard his guitar sing you went scrambling for the liner notes to look it up and then scanned through the photos decorating the accompanying booklet until you figured out which one he was.

Skinny with a mess of dark, curly hair and the most intense eyes you think you’ve ever seen in your life… You knew then and there that you were a goner for Brian May.

You’ve always found him almost unbearably attractive, the sort of man that you looked at and almost hated for how effortlessly _sexy_ he was even when that clearly wasn’t his goal. He was a man who, by his own admittance, didn’t care about fashion but somehow everything he wore looked amazing on him - from gaudy jackets to simple (but always disheveled and unbuttoned) shirts.

But you have never, _never_ seen him look as incredible as he does tonight.

Brian is in Rome for a one-off performance and brief Q&A about his new album, open only to members of the press and the fan club, and you’ve managed to snag a ticket to this exclusive event. It’s an acoustic performance, something lowkey and intimate, and maybe that’s what contributes to you being weak in the knees from the moment that Brian enters the room - wearing, of all things, a simple black tank top.

It shouldn’t be as hot as it is but Brian fills it out _so_ nicely, and you can’t remember his arms ever being as muscled as they look in that tank top. You’re so distracted by the sight of his bare arms, the necklaces decorating the hollow of his throat, and the faintest glimpse of his collarbones above the neckline of the tank top that you almost entirely miss how indecently tight his jeans are tonight. (It takes you an embarrassingly long time to realize that he’s wearing black clogs on his feet as well, but you’re so struck by the rest of his outfit that you find that you’re not even bothered by his questionable choice in footwear.)

You manage to get a spot up front by the small stage, the perfect vantage point to stare at Brian as he strums at his guitars and croons into the mic. It’s warm in the small venue and you can see sweat beading on Brian’s brow, and when he reaches up to wipe it away you have to bite your bottom lip to hold back a whimper.

There’s no stopping your growing arousal, though, especially not when Brian’s eyes land on you, just for a second - just long enough that you can see his eyes widen slightly, and you can almost convince yourself that when he licks his lips it’s because of _you_ and not a parched throat. It’s enough that you can feel yourself growing embarrassingly wet and it takes a real effort to stop yourself from squirming and pressing your thighs together right there in the Big Mama Café.

The show is over far, far too soon. Brian shakes hands with fans as he leaves the stage and you’re sure you’re imagining the way his hand lingers in yours, you’re sure he was just looking back at Jamie or Spike before he leaves the room, but you still let yourself imagine that it was _you_ he was looking at instead.

There’s a bar nearby and you duck into it, needing a drink (or several) and some time to compose yourself before you can think about heading home. It’s quiet inside and you find your thoughts drifting back to Brian and the way he looked in that tank top. The memory of his muscles flexing as he played his guitar, the vast expanse of bare skin on display, the brief glimpses of usually-hidden pits, the glisten of sweat down the column of his throat….

_Fuck_. You’re supposed to be calming yourself down, not making yourself even more worked up about your celebrity crush!

You down your drink and order a second, when a familiar - but unexpected - voice asks, “Mind if I get that for you?”

Your heart leaps into your throat and you turn to look at Brian May as he slides onto a barstool next to you. He has a jacket on now but he’s still wearing that damned tank top underneath it, and you can see it ride up slightly as he sits down.

You tear your eyes away from that sliver of exposed skin to nod at him, and you clear your throat. “S-sure,” you stammer. “Thanks.”

Brian’s smile is warm and beautiful. “Great.” He orders a drink of his own before saying, “You were at the show, weren’t you? In the front row?”

You nod again. Your heart is racing in your chest and you can feel your face flushing but somehow you manage to say, “Yes, I was. You were absolutely fantastic.”

Brian laughs and ducks his head a little in embarrassment. “Thanks. We weren’t bad, I suppose.” Your drinks arrive and Brian hands you yours, and clinks his glass against yours. “Cheers.”

You echo the sentiment, and as both of you take a drink you wrack your brain for something, _anything_ to say to keep the conversation going. “How long are you staying in Rome?” you ask. “I thought you said you had a plane to catch.”

“Mm, I do but we got word that our flight was delayed until later tonight. So I thought I’d grab a drink before we left,” Brian explains. “What about you? Are you a local?”

You shake your head. “Just in town for the show.”

“And in no hurry to leave, I take it,” Brian says, a little teasing.

You laugh, and trace a finger through the condensation dripping onto the bartop. “I needed a moment to decompress after that performance of yours,” you say, and it must be the alcohol that makes you bold enough to add, “It’s a bit overwhelming being that close to you when you look and sound that good, you know.”

Brian looks surprised and you’re just about to apologize for your comment - and possibly disappear into a hole to die of embarrassment - when he smirks at you and says, “Well, thank you. But you’re not the only one who got overwhelmed. It’s quite difficult for me to have to do a show when there are beautiful ladies like yourself front and center in the audience.”

“Surely a world-famous rockstar like yourself is used to seeing beautiful women at his shows,” you say. Your voice has dropped down to a sultry note, something that matches the dark arousal you can see in Brian’s eyes.

“There aren’t many women who look like you,” Brian counters in a low murmur, and you know it’s probably a line but _god_ is it working. He takes a long gulp of his drink and turns to face you a little better and says, “If I was in Rome for longer I’d ask you to go to dinner with me and come back to my hotel room after, but unfortunately I don’t have much time before I have to leave. So I hope you can forgive me for being a bit forward but… well…”

He nods towards the back of the bar, where you know the restrooms are, and raises an eyebrow questioningly. It’s not a direct question but you don’t need it to be. You know what he’s asking and you down the rest of your drink and stand up, leaning in close to him to whisper, “Wait a few minutes, then come follow me.”

Luckily, the bar has single-occupancy restrooms and you enter the first one, leaving the door unlocked. You splash some water on your face and look at yourself in the mirror, but you barely have time to wonder what the hell you’re doing before there’s a knock at the door and Brian ducks inside, and flips the lock behind him.

There’s a beat where the two of you just look at each other, a shared moment of arousal and amusement and almost disbelief that you’re actually about to hookup with a near-stranger in the bathroom of some bar. And then you take a step forward and Brian meets you halfway, wrapping an arm around your waist and capturing your lips in a searing kiss.

You gasp and Brian swallows the sound as his tongue slips into your mouth, tracing against yours, and you suck on it as your hands quickly reach up to push his jacket off his shoulders.

“We probably shouldn’t get undressed…” Brian mumbles against your mouth, barely breaking the kiss for long enough to get the words out, but he still helps shrug off his jacket and lets it fall to the floor.

You pull back, pressing lighter kisses against his mouth and moving down to kiss and nip along his jaw, though you’re careful not to leave marks on his skin - no matter how much you may want to. “Just wanted that off. You look too fucking hot in a tank top, I can’t stand it.”

You can’t keep your hands off him now that his shoulders and the top of his chest is on display again. You run your hands down his arms, feeling those muscles that had driven you crazy when he was performing, as Brian reaches down and runs one hand up your skirt, along the outside of your thigh.

“This okay?” he asks, his voice a low rumble. He leans in to lick and kiss at your neck and you tilt your head back to give him better access.

“Yes, _god_ , please,” you gasp, and then Brian’s fingers are trailing inward, towards your core. Your knees almost buckle when he brushes along the soaked front of your panties, and Brian tightens his grip around your waist and groans against your neck.

“Fuck, you’re so wet already…”

“Been wet since the show,” you admit, and that gets Brian surging up to kiss you again, fierce and hot, and you tangle one hand in his hair as he pulls your panties aside and slips two fingers deep inside you.

You moan and buck against his hand as he scissors his fingers and twists them inside you. “Fuck, Brian, just fuck me already, please fuck me, _god_ -” your voice trails off in a high-pitched whine as Brian crooks his fingers and rubs against your g-spot, and Brian quickly swallows down the noise before you get too loud and draw outside attention to this illicit tryst.

Brian pulls his fingers away and fumbles for his wallet, pulling out a condom as you undo his belt and fly and push his jeans down far enough to free his cock. You moan softly at the sight of it, big and thick and heavy in your hand as you stroke his length, feeling a rush of lust as Brian groans and rocks into your hand.

Brian tears open the condom and you take it from him to roll it down his cock. Brian’s hands drop to your waist and he says, “Wrap your legs around me, okay?”

You barely have time to comprehend the instruction before Brian is lifting you up with a small grunt, balancing you on the edge of the sink but still supporting most of your weight with his arms, which flex and strain under the effort. You wrap your legs around his waist and pull him in close and Brian goes willingly, lining up his cock at your entrance and sinking into you slowly.

You bite your lip to stop the loud moan that wants to slip out as Brian bottoms out inside you, his cock filling you so much that it’s almost a pained sort of pleasure, lighting up every nerve ending in your body even before he starts rocking into you. The first thrust has you leaning forward, ducking your head against Brian’s neck to muffle the noises that you can’t hold back any longer.

“Fuck, you feel so good, you’re so fucking good,” Brian praises and he fucks into you fast and hard. You mouth at his neck, tasting the salt of his sweat on his skin, and your fingernails dig crescent moons into his arms as you cling tightly to him.

You know you’re not going to last long. You’ve been turned on since Brian’s concert and having him here, around you, _in you_ , is absolutely overwhelming. The feeling of his bare arms beneath your hands, the sound of his pants and groans and mumbled praise in your ear, his hair tickling your face and the taste of his skin and sweat on your tongue…

You think you could die here, just like this, without a single regret.

Brian’s thrusts start to speed up and he brings a hand between your bodies to rub at your clit and you bite down on the strap of his tank top to stifle your loud cry of pleasure. “Want you come for me, love, c’mon, come on my cock,” Brian says, and that’s all it takes.

Your orgasm hits you suddenly, white-hot pleasure setting you on fire as you clench down on Brian’s thick cock and writhe against him. Brian ducks his head to capture you lips in another kiss, your cries lost in his mouth as he works you through your orgasm, his nimble guitarist’s fingers circling and teasing at your clit without pause. You try to find your voice to tell him that it’s too much, it’s too overwhelming, when a second orgasm rips through you, stealing your breath and leaving you gasping and shaking against Brian.

And then Brian’s hips stutter into you and he’s groaning and coming as well, and his hand finally falls away from your clit as he grinds against you, chasing his own pleasure. You keep kissing him and rub your hands along his arms, until Brian’s climax ends and the two of you are left tangled together, panting and breathless and slowly coming down from your highs.

Brian pulls out gently and helps lower you back to the floor. Your legs don’t want to work properly and you lean heavily against the sink as Brian disposes of the condom and quickly wets a paper towel. He cleans your slick away from the inside of your thighs with a tenderness that makes your heart ache, but when Brian wets a second paper towel to wipe the sweat away from his face and clean himself up you feel your stomach flutter with arousal again.

_Pull yourself together_ , you tell yourself as Brian straightens his own clothes and picks his jacket up off the floor.

“You know,” Brian says with a small laugh. “I don’t even know your name.”

Your chest is tight with a bittersweet longing, a thousand wishes that this could be the start of something long-term and beautiful… but you know it’s not meant to be.

You’ll be damned before you put the weight of your dreams on Brian’s shoulders though, so you muster up a smile and tell him, “I’m Y/N L/N.” You lean up to kiss him again, stealing into his mouth and lingering for as long as you dare, because you know you’ll probably never get this again… but just in case the stars align again you murmur in his ear as you pull away, “Come find me the next time you’re in Italy.”

And with that you step back, smooth down the front of your dress, and give Brian one last smirk and a cheeky wave before you duck out of the bathroom.

You fell a little more in love with Brian today than you already were - but that’s alright. You’re leaving the bar with a spring in your step and the heartache already fading, and even if you never see Brian again you at least got this one moment where your fantasies almost entirely came true.


End file.
